
07/05/2025
Every ride begins alone.
Just you, your horse, and the silence.
But if you listen closely, you’re never really alone.
There’s the voice of your first coach, still correcting your hands.
The pony that taught you stubbornness is a virtue.
The old gelding who forgave every mistake you didn’t know you made.
The show where you choked. The test where you soared.
The trainer who left too soon.
The one who stayed too long.
You ride with ghosts.
Not the haunting kind—
but the kind that shaped your seat before you even knew you had one.
Every whisper of “more outside rein,” every instinctive half-halt, every gut-deep knowing that you’re off-balance before you even feel it?
That’s muscle memory and myth colliding.
That’s legacy, echoing through the contact.
We don’t just ride horses.
We ride moments.
We ride memories.
We ride with every lesson burned into our bones.
So next time you swing a leg over, don’t rush.
Breathe.
Feel who’s riding with you.
And ask:
Which ghosts are guiding your hands today?